**Based off the song "Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler**
Chapter I
"Now we lay you down to sleep, pray the Lord, your soul to keep."
The priest slowly finishes, quoting her favorite bible poem. The words flow through me, and remember the times she used to sing that to me, just as I was falling asleep. I shake my head slightly, realizing I had completely spaced out again. Lately I just seem to float off into another world, pretty much since my mamma left me.
The crowd of onlookers slowly departs, leaving me staring at the freshly overturned dirt.
'This isn't right, Mamma.' I mutter, solely for the purpose of stating it. 'And it's not supposed to end like this.'
I feel a hand mold itself around the small protruding bone of my shoulder, and for a moment I believe it is her. Spinning, I lower my eyes in shame when I realize it is only Howie, my best friend. He's been the only thing holding me up during this. He hasn't left me side. If he weren't here right now, there would be nothing to stop me from throwing myself on her grave and begging God to take me, too.
Sniffling, I try to pull myself together and hold my composure. I don't want to look like a total pansy, and I definitely don’t want to cry. Howie isn't as stupid as he looks, though, and he nods when he sees my seams start to break.
"I'll give you time alone, and I'll be in the car if you need me, ok? Take as long as you need, got it J?"
I nod, not completely listening to what he's stating. Turning back, I let my eyes adjust to the one crimson-red rose in my hand. Kneeling, I set the rose on the dirt marking my mother's final resting spot. Somewhere in my mind I realize that the morning grass is dewy and wet, and I can feel it seeping through the knees of my best black suit. But I don't care. I can worry about that later, tomorrow.
Pulling my hand away, I study the handprint I left when I set my flower down, and am, almost instantly, brought back to eighteen years ago, on Mother's Day.
*<<>>*
"Mommy, how big were my hands when I was born?" I ask, being a curious five-year-old.
"Well, honey, they were the smallest ever. No bigger than your pinky is now. When the doctor held you up for me to see, you were beautiful, and you reached out and grasped my hand when I held it out. And, oh, how you cried. One of the loudest babies I've ever heard. You're still loud. But someday, Alex, I know that voice of yours will make you famous. You will be amazing, I can feel it."
"This is for you, Mommy. Happy Mommies Day." I hand her a clay replica of my five-year-old hand, 'I love you Mommy' writtin inside.
*<<>>*
It must have been cold,
There in my shadow
To never have sunlight
On your face
You were content,
To let me shine
That's your way
You always walked
A step behind…
*<<>>*
Chapter II
"Mamma. Mamma." I whisper. "Mamma, can you hear me? Oh, God, I miss you so much. There's so many memories…"
*<<>>*
"Alex, it's four in the morning. You should be resting, you're going to meet your new band mates tomorrow and you need your rest. Why did you call me honey?"
"I know I need rest, Mom. I'm just so nervous. What if I don't fit in? If they don't like me, what will I do Mom? I don’t want to let you down. What if they’re all older than I am, and they think I'm a baby? I know they won't like me, just like everyone at school. I'll be an outcast again."
"Alex, sweetie. Listen to me. Part of growing up is giving people a chance. How do you know they won't like you if you don't let them try? Just be yourself when you go there, and if it doesn't work out, I won't be disappointed in you Alex. You’re my son, and I'm proud of you for even giving this a chance. Isn't this what you've always wanted?"
"Of course, Mom!"
"Then don’t' give up. They're probably thinking the same things right now. Well, maybe not right now, at four a.m., but I bet they will tomorrow. I love you, get some rest. And good luck sweetie, you'll be perfect."
"I love you too, Mom. 'Nite."
*<<>>*
"Can you believe how far we've come, Mamma? If it wasn't for that call from you, I know I would've backed out. And never known my best friends in the world. How can I ever thank you for that?"
*<<>>*
Chapter III
So I was the one
With all the glory,
While you were the one
With all the strength
Beautiful face
Without a name
For so long
Beautiful smile
To hide the pain…
*<<>>*
"Mamma, why didn’t you tell me you were hurting? I wanted to help you so bad, Mamma, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. Do you remember the day I found out, Mamma? It was Mother's Day. I was twenty-one. Why does it seem like that was so long ago, Mamma?"
*<<>>*
"This song is dedicated to a special someone who made me who I am today. Happy Mother's Day, Ma. I love you."
I heard the crowd somewhere saying 'Aw…' but my gaze was fixed on the short woman with red hair and a pale purple shirt on in the front row. The first slow, soft, melodic notes start, and took a breath to sing the most important song of my lifetime.
"Did you ever know
That you're my hero
And everything I would like to be
I can fly Higher, than an eagle
When you are the
Wind Beneath My Wings."
When the song had ended, both of us were in tears. I put my whole heart and soul into that four minute and fifty-three second song, and I think I got a standing ovation for it. I don't remember, though, all I saw was my beautiful mother, smiling up at me, love so strong in her eyes I thought I would be blinded by it. Not that it would be bad, though. I'd rather be blinded by love than hate. I hoped the same light reflected in mine, also.
"I love you Mom." I whispered.
*<<>>*
Chapter IV
That night Mamma informed me she was dying. Leukemia. She was given six months to live.
I think that moment was worse then when she finally left me. My whole world crashed with those six words.
'Alex, honey, I'm dying of cancer.'
Everything I had made of myself, that I had done, had been for her. She was my shining star, my light at the end of the tunnel. I couldn't believe my ears.
When six months came and then slowly passed, we rejoiced. We were grateful for every day that passed, but afraid, too. If our given end had passed, when would the true one come?
I took her pain as my own. Everything she went through, I went through right beside her.
When it came time for treatment, I was next to her, asking just as many questions and holding her hand.
I stayed with her. Lived with her. Even insisted on canceling the last three months of the tour to be with her.
When it got really bad, I wished so much that I could take her pain away. I would live and suffer in Hell for eternity if she could be safe and happy, just for one day.
When her hair started to fall out, I shaved mine off with her. And when she couldn't make it through a night without throwing up from the chemo, I stayed by her side, comforting her. I rubbed her back through the hours in Hell when she could barely kneel by the toilet, and tears running blind courses down our cheeks so fast we didn't bother to wipe them away. Neither of us had anything to hide anymore.
I would stay up, sacrificing my few hours of rest just to watch her sleep when she would fall into a fitful slumber. It was like our rolls were reversed.
I was the mother now, and she was my scared and sick child. She tried to pretend she hated having me there, practically babying her, watching her go through her pain. Many a times she would yell at me as hard as she could, telling me to leave. Telling me she didn't want me, that this is what she deserved, that I should get on with my life and just leave her to die. I would sit there holding her as she said this, constantly repeating that I loved her.
Because in her eyes, I knew she was pleading with me to stay. She was just like me, though; she had too much pride to admit it. I refused to leave, despite her wishes.
I loved her too much for that.
*<<>>*
It might have appeared
To go unnoticed
But I have it all
Here in my heart
I want you to know
I know the truth
Of course I know you
I would be nothing
Without you…
*<<>>*
Chapter V
I was at the studio. It was Brian, Howie and I in the recording booth, trying to work out a tough spot in the harmony. I remember like it was yesterday the words I was singing when Q burst in and informed me she was in the hospital. The lyrics ring through my ears again and again and I let the fall from my lips softly.
"I wanna thank you for what you've done.
In hopes I can give back to you
And be the perfect son…"
*<<>>*
Brian had written it. We were recording it… For Mother's Day. We were gonna give it to our mothers, on the most important holiday for a child to pay respect to their mother. But I never got to.
*<<>>*
Q walked in, and we all looked up in shock. He knew better than to walk in on any of us during recording. It was so hard to get all of us focused that they treasured the time that we pulled together for the music.
He walked straight over to me, and lowered my sunglasses down my nose, resting his hand on my forearm as he stared into my eyes.
"She's at St. Mary's Hospital in West Palm. Sent in this morning." He said, in a hushed tone.
He squeezed my arm, then went to hail a cab, knowing I'd want to leave right away, but that I needed my friends right now.
Brian had called Kevin and Nick in as Q was talking, and I was thankful. I needed all the support I could get.
I felt my knees wobble, before they completely gave out beneath me. Thankfully Kevin caught me as I fell, and he just held me on the floor, rocking me. The others engulfed me into a large hug, and cried with me.
She was a mother to them, too.
*<<>>*
Chapter VI
I got to the hospital in record time. Q was a god, and called ahead to tell them I was coming, and that I would want to see her right away.
The nurse immediately ushered me in, giving babbling instructions on where to go. I was in a daze, I wasn’t even paying attention. Q grabbed my arm, and led me towards the elevator.
Suddenly I saw why Brian hated hospitals so much. They were just so… impersonal. Like no one was really here at all. Sure, you saw the people in the rooms, but none of them were anybody. Until I found myself outside my mother's room.
I stepped through the threshold, and was amazed that nothing happened. I don’t know, I guess I just expected the floor to eat me up, or my mom to jump out of the bed and yell, 'April fools!' But it wasn’t April first. And the floor definitely didn't eat me up.
I looked around, and was immediately surprised by what I saw. I think I expected to see me mom, standing, looking out the window. Maybe see flowers on the dresser, or pictures on her nightstand. But this wasn't right. This room was so impersonal too. But that couldn't be, because this was my mom. She had a personality, she wasn't dying. She could live forever.
All I saw was my happiness and joy, my life, looking so small and unbelievably frail in that damned hospital bed.
"Mamma." She opened her eyes to smile at me.
"Alex."
That was all she needed to say. In two steps I was on my knees at the side of her bed, hugging her as hard as I could without hurting her. She was my mother. She was supposed to be so strong, not bed-ridden to the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.
"Alex." She whispered again.
Her voice was faint, almost in audible. It was time. I knew it, but it still didn't feel right. Her long awaited and dreaded date, a half a year past the given date, had finally revealed itself.
"I love you, son. Please don't forget that. I'll be waiting for you in Heaven."
I couldn't find my voice. I was crying to hard to respond. There was so much I wanted to say to her. To tell her. To ask for her forgiveness for, and to say all the times I should have appreciated her love but I only took it for granted. All I could manage to choke out was a meek
'Mamma, don't say that.'
"Alex," she scolded softly, and I smiled through all my tears. "Don’t be a fool. My time is here, but I'm not scared anymore. I love you so much Alex, and I know you love me too. You were my lifeline…"
She was starting to talk slower, and all I could do was cry harder.
"I'm going to miss you. But when your time comes, I'll be the first one to meet you at the gates, and to let you in. You are my only son Alex, my pride and joy. I… I love you."
*<<>>*
Would you know my name
If I saw you in Heaven…
*<<>>*
She closed her eyes, shutting the world's light out from her emerald eyes for the last time. I felt her hand go limp in mine. The internal battle she had been fighting a half a year past expected had finally ceased. She let it win.
Chapter VII
I cried. I cried for her, to have to die so young, with so much life and love still left in her.
For myself, to live without the only thing that mattered in my life.
I cried for God, because he just got a brand new angel, the best one yet.
Most of all, I cried for my children. They will never know their grandmother, the most selfless, caring, and beautiful woman in the world.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mamma."
I managed to choke out, before letting my head fall by her side in a restless sleep.
*<<>>*
When I awoke, I was surprised to find myself in the waiting room, engulfed in Kevin's strong protecting arms. When he felt me stir, he looked down and met my gaze. His emerald-green eyes shone with a compassion I had never seen before, and they were filled with comfort.
"It will get easier." He whispered.
That made me remember. My Mamma, my pride and joy was… I couldn't even say it. I just nodded. He might proclaim it gets better, but I can see what a lasting affect his father's death had on him.
*<<>>*
Chapter VIII
Howie took over the funeral arrangements. All he needed from me was a type of flower, and memorabilia to put into the… casket. The flowers were easy. Tiger-Lily's. Her favorite.
And crimson-red roses, what had become a secret symbol for what me mom and I went through. They represented love, which we both shared so closely. They represented blood, the one part of my mamma I dared to hate, which turned against her to bring her to her knees. And for me, it was as close to a natural black rose as possible. As if it were saying, almost mocking me.
'The last year of your mother's life, she lived in blackness. So close to death, yet so very far away.'
I don't know. It's too hard to make organized and intelligent thoughts right now.
As for the memorabilia, that was a little more difficult. I ended up not using a lot, keeping it to a minimal. Six pictures of my mom and I, and my birth, and at 5 years, 10, 15, 20, and just a couple weeks ago, both of us bald and grinning. She always put on such a happy face, even when she was in too much pain to see straight. I also put in the clay imprint of my five-year-old hand, I don't know why. It just seemed to fit. If I couldn't hold her hand, at least she could hold a part of mine.
*<<>>*
Chapter IX
So now here I am. Standing at my mother's grave, in St. Petersburg National cemetery. I'm standing here, while my mother lies six feet under a pile of cold dirt and a gray headstone that reads:
Denise McLean
My Hero
'May the wind hold your wings up'
Beloved mother and friend
June 15, 1951 – May 05, 2001
It's so surreal. She'll never sing the 'Sesame Street Song' again or dance wildly around my kitchen to one of our songs. She'll never kiss my forehead or make Key Lime Pie. She'll never just burst into my house and yell out,
'Honey, I'm HOME!
She'll never just BE.
I feel the tears pool in my eyes again and angrily try to push them back. I have to be a man about this, she wouldn't want me crying over her. Would she?
I looked down at that one crimson-red rose.
'This is it.'
I watch as a small gust of wind causes the rose to turn, and let one lone petal fall out from it's companions. I continue to watch as the same gust grows in strength, gaining confidence in it's power, ruffling my jacket. I then observe that one petal being lifted from the ground, like magic. It swirls softly in the air like it belongs there, before being taken on a haphazard journey around the angel on my mamma's headstone.
Suddenly the strong gust stops, and the petal is pulled by gravity once again, floating down towards earth, to land in the upturned palms of the angel.
As if Mamma was telling me it would be okay.
*<<>>*
I turn away from my mamma's final resting-place and I feel my heart lift. It’s time for the healing to begin.
And I let the tears fall.
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